


if you're thinking you might wanna stay with me, I don't wanna go on my own

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Regency, Arranged Marriage, Bottom Ned Stark, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Femdom, Oral Sex, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Sex, Regency, Top Catelyn Stark, Woman on Top, edmure tully for best bro of the century tbh, ned being an oral pro is c a n o n, not for cersei fans but is it any news, regencyfemdom event 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27147416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: “And what if I told my lord,” she says, “that I actually was always quite good at keeping that kind of thing straight and that I do enjoy that kind of entertaining social relations, even if I don’t particularly like most people I have to talk to?”He smiles slightly at that, finally looking at her in the eyes. “Is my lady telling me,” he says, “that she quite likes it because she can feel exactly how much most of them are vapid people who can only talk about hunting foxes, the latest ball and so on?”“That’s,” she smiles back, “exactly what she’s telling you, my lord.”He smiles a bit wider. It’s a sweet smile, she thinks.“Maybe,” he says, “we might be more suited to each other than I thought in the beginning, Lady Catelyn.”“If we are to be wed,” she smiles back, “maybe you could call me Cat, my lord. I do not have much use for formality, either.”“Then — then it’s Ned, in between us,” he replies, stopping right in the middle of the garden. She can hear the river flowing a bit farther.“Ned,” she tries out. “It sounds lovely.”
Relationships: Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 78
Collections: Regency Femdom Week 2020





	if you're thinking you might wanna stay with me, I don't wanna go on my own

**Author's Note:**

> AAAND have the pseudo-companion for yesterday's jb fic which is like... supposed to be same setting though it has absolutely no direct ties to it except that it's supposed to be set a bit later uwu this... really is just porn and I realized I never wrote nedcat in this setting *and* that the event was perfect for it so HAVE AT IT also the fact that ao3 doesn't have an automatic top catelyn tully tag showing up if you look for it is a PITY and I am honestly outraged, therefore have at it /o\ see you HOPEFULLY tomorrow with another jb/another fic for a different fandom for more regency femdom \o\
> 
> and other than that: title is from brian fallon as somewhat usual, I own zilch and I'll go saunter downwards now /o\ have some more porn!!

1.

“What a _great_ pity, isn’t it _just_?”

“To think that she was supposed to wed Lord Brandon. How _unfortunate_ , am I right?”

“But all the better for all of us, I should suppose.”

“ _Barbrey,_ dear, not that you’re wrong, but _do_ lower your voice, won’t you?”

 _As if I cannot hear all of you_ , Cat doesn’t say as she keeps a smile fixed on her face and sits alone at the opposite end of her father’s dining room.

She _knows_ that he could not… avoid a public party to announce her second engagement. Not that anything had come out of the first, but after Lord Brandon’s unfortunate death in what seems like a horse accident when he was vacationing with his sister at Lord Targaryen’s summer manor, she had honestly not known if her father’s agreement with Lord Stark would stand.

It _did_ stand, arranging a marriage to his second son and now heir, Lord Eddard. Cat is somewhat sure that Father renegotiated so that her dowry would be… less than before, and not because _he_ told her, but because it somehow slipped past their supposedly private meeting. She heard it first from her sister, but then it had spread quickly, therefore everyone knows, and people who before at least pretended to _like_ her are not even trying now. Not that Cat cares either way — Lady Barbrey, Lady Cersei and Lady Taena were never her favorite people to converse with, considering that the only neutral topic with them that’s not talking badly about someone else is discussing the latest fashion and it’s hardly Cat’s favorite subject of conversation —, but it’s just unnerving to see them discussing her supposed misfortunes in _her_ house, in _her_ presence, as if they do not know that she can hear them.

She has also never met Lord Eddard, he had been on a months-long trip to France during her engagement to Brandon and only came back upon the news of his brother’s death, so she honestly doesn’t know what to expect, but it seems like all the people in this room think she’s being especially unlucky in marrying _him_ instead of his brother.

Now, Cat has no opinion on _that_ specifically, having never met the man.

But, she _had_ met her future husband to be, of course, and while she had not complained — Father made it clear it was an extremely good match and that she had no choice on the matter, and she had always known she wouldn’t —, while Lord Brandon was extremely good looking and charming and quick to have the whole room eating out of his hand, and he had never been unkind to her, she had not felt like they were quite _right_ for each other.

The fact that she _could_ hear stories about how many maids were continuously fired and hired again in Winterfell, the Starks’ manor, and how the oldest maids looked at her with pity whenever she visited, had not… quite helped her gut feeling that Lord Brandon was not as good a prospect as he seemed like.

Therefore, she is entirely open to see how his brother is; after all, if all the people currently whispering about how unfortunate she is don’t like him, maybe he _is_ actually a whole lot better than presumed.

If not… well. She will do her duty. As she always has.

Still, she can hope.

She sips her tea, smiles a very, very fake smile in Cersei’s general direction and puts the cup back on the table, waiting for a maid to refill it. It should be almost time —

“Lord Stark,” she hears Father say from the entrance of the room.

Cat stands up at once, the skirts of her blue, silky gown sliding downwards until they stop short of barely touching the ground. She can feel the ribbons tying her hair up touching the back of her neck as Father leads Lord Eddard her way.

Lord Eddard, Cat notices as soon as he’s close, does _not_ look much like his brother, and she can understand why Lady Cersei and her cohorts think she might be unlucky in the switch — he has none of the handsomeness and charm of Lord Brandon. They have the same dark brown hair and dark grey eyes, but Lord Eddard’s face isn’t as round, definitely longer than his brother’s, with a solemn look to his eyes that Lord Brandon lacked, and he wears his hair a bit shorter, though still reaching his neck; differently from his brother, he also has a trimmed and well-kept beard. He’s only dressed in somber colors, dark grey trousers and vest, black tail coat and a white shirt underneath, very different choices from his brother’s — Lord Brandon liked embroidered clothing and brighter colors, and had seemed disappointed when Cat could _not_ recognize that they were the latest fashion indeed. Honestly, she has no clue if Lord Eddard’s _are_ also the latest fashion, but she thinks she likes that he’s not… peacocking around, if it makes any sense.

She also can hear him breathing in sharply before taking her gloved hand and lightly kissing its back.

“My lady,” he says haltingly but in a low, warm voice that she instantly likes, “I — am extremely pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise, my lord,” she replies, more smoothly. She glances around. Lady Cersei is looking at her as if she _pities_ her.

Cat knows that she should ask him to sit with her and proceed with the usual small talk as she had with his brother.

But honestly, the marriage date is still _the same_ , barely weeks from now, they _will_ have to wed and Lord Eddard looks as eager to be here as she feels, and what else could happen? Other ladies speaking ill of her? As if they do not already.

“My lord,” she says, offering him her arm, “I wondered if you would fancy a walk out in the garden with me? The river is quite beautiful, this time of the year.”

She can _hear_ relief in his voice as he holds out his own for her to take and replies, “I would be delighted.”

It’s also obvious he means it.

Cat slides her arm inside his, nods towards her father, gives Cersei another smile she doesn’t feel at all and walks out of the room, heading for the gardens.

The river _is_ particularly nice at this time of the year and it’s a lovely summer day.

She thinks she’d rather talk outside.

2.

“I am… sorry about this,” Lord Eddard says when they’re far enough from the mansion that no one might hear.

“About what, my lord?” Cat replies, keeping her tone even.

He clears his throat, not quite looking at her even if he keeps on glancing her way.

“I know you expected… to marry my brother. He always… was very different from me, and I do know I can hardly compare with —”

“My lord,” Cat interrupts him, hoping that he won’t find her rude, but she doesn’t want this — _this_ to start on the wrong foot, “may I be exceedingly honest with you?”

“Of course,” he replies at once. “I — I would rather you are. I do not particularly enjoy... not being straightforward.”

“Well, then I will tell you that every single time I met your brother I had a distinct feeling that it would not work between us.”

“… You did?” Lord Eddard replies, sounding surprised. “That sounds — rather strange. Every lady my brother met was charmed.”

“I don’t doubt _that_ ,” she replies, “but _I_ wasn’t, and he didn’t seem too worried about impressing _me_ , nor about… not impressing other ladies when he was supposed to be doing just that, if I explain myself.”

Lord Eddard nods, sighing. “I think I understand what you mean,” he says. “He… was like that, yes. But — he also was… considered the one in between us that was not either boring or dull. I am afraid you might have not been lucky, all things considered.”

She keeps on walking, looking straight at him. “ _All things considered_ , my lord?”

He clears his throat again. “I mean — _you_ , my lady, are… quite striking. I _could_ have pictured Brandon with a wife like you. Myself, I —”

“I think,” Cat replies, “that you might be underestimating yourself, my lord. Certainly your conversational skills haven’t been lacking in comparison to his, for now.”

“… Are you quite meaning it?”

“Of course I do,” she says, walking on. “Let’s just say that the first time I talked to your brother he sounded extremely disappointed that I had not recognized that his vest had come from one specific very fashionable tailor. Or that I did not know where _my_ own dress came from.”

“You did not?”

“I bought it in London,” she says, “of course, but I could not remember the shop. Apparently it was extremely unexpected of me and I should have learned if I wanted to make sure to oversee the clothing shopping for his estate, which he did indeed expect me to do.”

“Well,” Lord Eddard says, his voice lowering, sounding a bit more confident, “what if I told you in all confidence that I quite… enjoy overseeing _that_ and that I would not expect my lady wife to do it, if she did not care for it?”

She lets herself smile. “And what does my lord _not_ enjoy, then?”

He clears his throat again. “I suppose I quite dislike having to entertain social relations. My father always despairs that I can never remember everyone’s relatives or how important they are when it comes to talking to them or _entertaining_ them or doing business with them, and I would quite rather discuss that in between the people I know best, but it’s supposedly _expected_ especially now that Brandon is gone.”

Cat feels her heart beating a bit faster as she gathers the guts to actually _say it_. She never dared tell it to Brandon, or her own father, just to her uncle and to Edmure, and Uncle Brynden has left a long time ago.

“And what if I told my lord,” she says, “that I actually was always quite good at keeping _that_ kind of thing straight and that I do enjoy that kind of _entertaining social relations_ , even if I don’t particularly like most people I have to talk to?”

He smiles slightly at that, finally looking at her in the eyes. “Is my lady telling me,” he says, “that she quite likes it because she can feel exactly how much most of them are vapid people who can only talk about hunting foxes, the latest ball and so on?”

“That’s,” she smiles back, “exactly what she’s telling you, my lord.”

He smiles a bit wider. It’s a sweet smile, she thinks.

“Maybe,” he says, “we might be more suited to each other than I thought in the beginning, Lady Catelyn.”

“If we are to be wed,” she smiles back, “maybe you _could_ call me Cat, my lord. I do not have much use for formality, either.”

“Then — then it’s Ned, in between us,” he replies, stopping right in the middle of the garden. She can hear the river flowing a bit farther.

“Ned,” she tries out. “It sounds lovely.”

“I imagine,” he says, looking at her, those grey eyes not moving from hers, _finally_ , “that you are not much of a lady who cares for etiquette, are you?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “I never quite did care for it.”

“Then maybe you will not be too… outraged, if I —”

He moves forward, then stops.

Oh.

 _Oh_.

“I will not,” she says, and then his gloved hand is at the back of her neck, their lips pressing together, and _oh_ , Lord Brandon did kiss her once or twice, but never so intently, never so slowly, never so… carefully, Cat thinks as she reaches upward and covers his cheek with her own hand after sliding off her own glove.

She won’t find it later because it flies from her hand, taken away by the wind, but she doesn’t care much for it, not when his skin is warm and his beard is soft under her fingers, and it’s a _good_ kiss, a _real_ kiss, and so what if when they come back Lady Cersei and her friends are staring in outrage at her one naked hand?

 _They_ aren’t getting married in two weeks to a man who actually wants to kiss them properly, after all.

3.

It’s not that Cat _never_ thought about her wedding night.

She _did_ , or better, she did based on what gossip she heard and on what she could gather from the maids giggling outside her door, but — she never exactly thought about it _in detail_ , because from what she noticed from Brandon Stark, it was obvious that if anyone was going to dictate how it would have gone, it’d have been him. And _something_ about it sort of irked her, and not just because it was obvious that _she_ would have been the one without experience out of the two of them while _he_ certainly managed to acquire it before bedding her. Oh, there was definitely something that _really_ didn’t sit well with her about her future husband having bedded most likely each single maid in Winterfell before bedding her, but the rest — the rest was a sensation of _hating_ the fact that she wouldn’t have had a say in it.

She also knew that sounded like a fairly stupid objection, because out of all of her circle, she thinks _no one_ actually had a say in their own wedding night, except maybe Cersei Lannister and what Cersei said and what she actually did almost never matched, never mind that she seemed more interested in complaining about her twin brother’s choice of wife than anything else (for that matter, Cat always thought that Brienne Tarth was way better company than most people she regularly has tea with, but she can’t blame her for not actually caring for social niceties). But regardless of that, it’s not as if she could ask _anyone_ about it.

She _would_ have asked her uncle, if — if he still was around. But he’s not.

So, when Ned closes the door of his — now _their_ room in Winterfell and she waits for him standing near the bed, wearing her white satin dress and her hands still gloved, her hair tied up in an elaborate crown of braids — she honestly doesn’t know what to expect; he certainly didn’t give her the same impression that his brother had, but — but on the other side, he never spoke of other women and the maids in Winterfell weren’t looking at her with so much pity as before. Could it be that…?

She barely even finishes that thought when he turns to look at her and she can see that he looks as if taken by panic.

“Ned?” She asks. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not… strictly speaking,” he says, getting rid of his hat and jacket, as if the latter is stopping his breath. “I just, uhm. Brandon, he — he always offered to pay for me to go to a brothel so that I’d be… experienced, when _this_ moment came. Except that I always said no because it seemed disrespectful towards my future wife, and then he would tell me that whichever maid was available, but — it didn’t seem much better. And the few times he was _very_ bent on giving me tips I always stopped him because I just — didn’t seem to find what he discussed interesting or anything that might help me, so — uh. I’m afraid that if you wished for someone more —”

“I think,” she stops him, a hand going to his shoulder, feeling the muscle under the soft fabric of his chemise, “that I would rather have someone on _my_ same level of… experience, than someone who has to prove how good they are at it.”

Ned swallows, nodding in relief. “Oh. Oh. Well — should we, then, if —”

“I think we _should_ ,” she says, “and I also think that undoing my hair on my own would be bothersome. Would you mind…?”

“Of — of course,” he blurts, his cheeks flushing under his well-trimmed beard, and — thing is. She had seen him stare at her hair more than once, but of course he could never touch it until now, it would have been _improper_ and all, and it’s true that it _would_ be a bother to undo all of her complicated hairdo if she couldn’t see it… but the fact that she asked and he immediately complied made blood rush hotter in her veins, and when she turns her back to him and stays still as she lets him undo all the pins keeping her braids up and then the braids themselves, running his fingers through her long hair to free it, shaking at first but firmer later, that blood rushes even _hotter_.

It feels good to have him touch her hair like that, it feels — it feels _right_ , and the fact that he doesn’t tug nor does it like it’s his right but like he’s overjoyed that she’s letting him is making her feel even bolder, and gods, she _might_ have touched herself thinking about him before the wedding, forgetting everything she heard about it being sinful, and she thinks her smallclothes might be getting as wet as her hand used to when she pushed her fingers inside her thinking about touching his face and kissing his mouth _properly_ and taking off his clothes —

“You have such lovely hair,” Ned blurts from behind her, his hands still running through the strands touching the small of her back.

“Do I,” she breathes back, feeling bold, bolder than she’d ever thought she could.

“It’s soft,” he says, and then, “it’s such a beautiful shade of red,” and maybe her former governess would have been outraged at what she wants to ask, but… she’s not here now, is she?

“I think,” she swallows, her heart beating so fast she can barely hear her own voice, “that maybe my lord should find out where _else_ I have hair of that shade, if he likes it so much.”

He groans from behind her, his hands trembling.

“May I —” He starts, touching the laces at the back of her dress.

“Yes,” she whispers, nodding, and when he’s done and he pushes down the dress, freeing her shoulders, it falls to the ground and only leaves her in her corset and pantalettes, and when his hands touch the back of the corset she nods and he unlaces it, too. He gasps as it falls to the ground, and it’s a _good_ kind of gasp, she thinks, and so she pushes down her pantalettes so that she’s completely naked, and then she turns towards Ned, who is staring at her like he can’t even begin to decide where to touch because he wants to touch everywhere.

That makes her feel —

That makes her feel _good_.

“I think,” she says, “that maybe I shouldn’t be the only one naked in between the two of us, should I?”

He nods as she opens his chemise a lot quicker than he unlaced her clothing, and he breathes in relief when she unlaces his trousers and pushes them down along with his own smallclothes, and _well_ , he’s — he’s exactly as she had pictured him to be, with a lean chest, where she can feel muscle if running a hand from shoulder to stomach, and he’s half-hard already as her hand reaches his dark curls, and she can see him staring at the bright red hair over _her_ own crotch.

Gods, she wants —

She _wants_ —

“There’s a perfectly good bed over there,” she says, “should we?”

He nods. Then he opens his mouth, closes it, his cheeks flushing harder, and then he looks at her like he’s almost afraid to speak, and —

“Yes,” he says, “but I think — _you_ should.”

For a moment, she doesn’t understand what he meant, but then —

Oh.

 _Oh_.

She grabs his elbows and he groans as she turns him towards the bed and pushes him down on it, and from the way he moans as he does and she climbs on top of him, she’s fairly sure he _wanted_ that.

And —

She breathes, reaching a hand down and wrapping her fingers around his erection and stroking experimentally, and when he moans harder and nods she does it again, and _again_ , and she barely even knows what she’s doing but he’s arching up against her and grasping her back and thrusting up into her hand, and it’s giving her a rush of dizziness that feels — feels good, feels even _better_ when he goes taut under her and he says that he’s close, and she’s — she’s so intent on it that when he suddenly spends against her hand, _hard_ , her palm coated in come in the span of seconds as he swears very, _very_ loudly she barely even notices it happening until it _has_ already, and —

He’s breathing fast and hard as she looks at her hand and can only think, _I did that, oh_ I _did that_ , and it’s making her feel even better, and it’s making her blood rush downward _hotter_ , and —

“Bloody — oh, I’m — I didn’t — I’m _sorry_ ,” Ned blurts a moment later as obviously fights through his own bout of dizziness and takes an account of the situation, “it was so fast and I didn’t even —”

She shakes her head. “That’s — that’s quite all right,” she says, even if it feels kind of inadequate. “I — that was — I liked it.”

“You _liked_ —”

“It… felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yes,” he nods, “ _of course_ it did, it wasn’t the same as — oh, I shouldn’t say I actually —”

“I did that too,” she confesses, “and I thought about you all the times I did it in the last few weeks.”

His eyes suddenly become a darker shade of grey, and he breathes in as he looks at her crotch with the face of a man who just wants to bury his head in it —

Well.

 _Maybe_ —

She wipes her hand on the sheets, slowly, slowly crawling up the bed. He nods at her the moment he understands what she wants to do, and as she finally, _finally_ sits up so that her cunt is right above his mouth he does it again, and she can see he’s about to warn her that he never did it to someone else but Cat has barely even heard of anyone doing it to their wife, and so she nods and closes the space between them and a moment later his hand is on her back and his tongue is tentatively licking the warm, soft flesh in between her legs — she moans a little as it runs up and down, even if it doesn’t immediately feel like much of anything, but then he curls his tongue against the spot where she usually presses with her own fingers before sliding them inside when she touches herself, and she shouts his name, her hips almost jerking up, and she does it again when he runs it up and down and left and right and then circles around that spot again before his tongue slides inside her, partly, and by now she _feels_ wet, she knows he’s rubbing his face in it, and she thrusts her hips down, a hand reaching forward, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him in _tighter_ —

He _moans_ against her cunt, licking her faster and _faster_ and still running his tongue over the spots he figured out are making her see stars, and she _is_ , everything going dizzy if she closes her eyes, but it’s a _good_ kind of dizzy, and her legs are trembling and she feels like her stomach might burst for how taut it feels right now, and _fuck_ it feels so good she’s — she doesn’t even _know_ what she’s going to do but suddenly it’s not enough and she needs more and she tells him and he moans into her cunt as his tongue works on her even faster and slides inside her again and she’s screamed and — and spilled water on his face as her entire body felt on fire without even realizing she was going to do it, and as she falls down on the bed because she can’t hold herself up anymore she sees that his face is _drenched_ in her and —

Oh.

 _Oh_ , hell, it’s — it’s making her feel like she wants to do it _again_ now.

“I —” Ned says, sounding awed as he cleans off his mouth with his wrist, “I didn’t even know what I was doing, but — that was —”

“Did — did you hate it?” She asks, hoping he doesn’t answer no because she _did_ love it, so much —

“Quite — quite the contrary,” he pants, and oh, _oh_ , he’s half-hard again, she realizes as she looks down at his crotch, and she didn’t even _touch_ him —

“I think,” he says, “I might want to do it again. And _again_. But —”

“Yes,” she agrees, “yes, _yes_ ,” and then she moves back up on top of him again and touches his erection again and she feels like she’s burning in between her legs so much she could _burst_ , and when she slides on him she can barely feel it for how wet she is, and when she experimentally moves her hips she _feels_ him thrust up, and oh, _oh_ he’s fully hard now, it just took sliding on him to, and when she pushes her legs closer together just to see what happens he _screams_ , and so she does it again, and again, until he’s thrusting into her _hard_ but she’s meeting his thrusts one by one and she’s actually setting the pace, her hands pushing down on his shoulders, and his fingers grasping at her hips will leave bruises, but hell she thinks she _wants_ them, she wants them _badly_ , and so she tells him and says to do it harder and he _does_ as soon as she asks and _oh his face still smells like her, doesn’t it —_

She buries herself on him with the last thrust as she clenches around his cock and comes around it harder than she had before, and _then_ she can feel him spill inside her, and he’s screaming her name and every single person in this area of the manor probably heard them and the mere idea makes her clench harder, moaning his name back as her hands move up and grab his hair and tug him upwards so she can kiss him, and then his own hands are running through her hair and pulling her close even if he’s still letting her set the pace of the kiss, and by the time she slides off him and feels like she’s run for an entire hour for how short of breath she is, she also — she feels _good_ , she feels better than she can ever remember feeling, and from the awed way he’s looking at her she thinks he’s of the same mind.

“I,” he says, “I think we might have been… worrying for nothing?”

“Maybe — maybe so,” she agrees, her hand reaching for his. “You — you truly didn’t mind that —”

“Cat,” he interrupts, obviously forcing himself to hold her stare, biting down on his lip before releasing it, “I — the reason why I didn’t — care for Brandon’s advice, is that it was all about… _having_ a woman only. Not — not _this_. And whenever I thought about betting anyone, _that_ was what I imagined. I hadn’t dared hope anyone would indulge me on _that_ , but —”

“And what if,” she breathes, moving closer, her mouth nearing his, “I would quite love to indulge you on that as much as you liked?”

“I’m saying,” he smiles back, moving closer himself, “that I would be exceedingly glad to have you indulge me, _my lady_.”

He kisses her again.

The moment he calls her like _that_ , with his voice going lower, looking at her like he just wants her to move on top of him and take him _again_ , she feels her blood fire up again.

She will have to think about it.

 _Later_ , though.

It’s their wedding night, after all, and she thinks they can stand to have each other some more.

But she knows for sure that she _will_ indulge him in this as much as he wants. It might be, after all, as much as _she_ wants, too.

4.

“Why, pray,” Cat asks Edmure as he locks the door to her old room in Riverrun, “you have to give me my wedding anniversary present in _private_?”

Her brother clears his throat, his cheeks flushing. “Well,” he says, “you know… some of the maids here are friends with _your_ maids in Winterfell.”

“Very well. And what does that have to do with my _wedding anniversary present_?”

“See,” he says, “I, uhm. Talk to them. Not for —”

“Edmure, I _know_ you wouldn’t take advantage of them like _that_. And I know you talk to the household staff, Father keeps on complaining about it every single time we talk just before he discloses how much he hopes you don’t end up like our uncle, which, in between us, wouldn’t be such a bad thing.”

“Well, see, your maids are… kind of, well, they _do_ have an idea of what you and Lord Eddard… seem to enjoy. And lately I was at this auction for… _peculiar_ objects, I only went for curiosity, but I found one that I think might be… something _you_ might want.”

“Edmure,” she says, “ _what_ exactly —”

He hands her a velvet satchel covering what feels like a medium-sized wooden box. “I think you should see it for yourself. If you dislike it, feel free to never mention it again.”

And _then_ he flees from the room.

Cat locks the door again, figuring that it’s not anything she wants to risk anyone seeing and wondering _what_ Edmure was even thinking, and then slides out the box. It’s a _nice_ box, she thinks, made of cherry wood, with the trout of their family crest engraved on the top. But it cannot be what Edmure was worried she would dislike.

She opens the box.

Then she _immediately_ slams it closed.

 _What_ —

She breathes in, opens it again.

No, she hadn’t guessed wrong. It’s — it’s a sleek, polished piece of ivory that _definitely_ is supposed to stand in for a cock, and it comes with a black leather harness nestled in the upper part of the box. The moment she takes it out of it to see _exactly_ what it is, it’s _obvious_ how this gift is supposed to be used.

For a moment, she can’t help wondering _what was my brother thinking_ , but then —

Then.

Then she pictures actually putting it on and _using_ it, sliding inside Ned the way he slides inside _her_ when she allows him to —

She immediately puts the harness back in the box and slams it closed, sliding it back inside the velvet satchel, then clutches it to her chest as she leaves the room.

When she clears her throat and hands it to Ned while they’re on the carriage back to Winterfell and asks him what he thinks, his cheeks flush very, _very_ hard in the late summer sun.

“I think,” he says, handing it back to her, “I might want to try it.”

Well then.

 _Well then_.

Later that evening, she takes a small oil bottle from the kitchens, hoping that it will be enough.

 _Later_ , she pours it over her fingertips as she uses them to circle the rim of his ass at first and then coats the inside, too, and her blood goes on fire every time he screams _more_ when she pushes her fingers in deeper and _deeper_ , until she has two buried inside him and he’s all tight and warm and slick with oil around them and he tells her that he needs even _more_ , and so she nods and hoists up the harness, pouring the last of the oil on the top of the ivory cock as she slides it inside him slowly, her legs shaking as she wraps them around his thighs and _pushes_.

He _shouts_ at that, _it feels so good_ , he blurts into his pillow, hands grasping at it, and so she moves back and slides in _again_ , as he screams again into it and it _can_ be heard as muffled as it is, and she — she grasps at his sides, her fingers gripping so tight she’s sure she might bruise his skin but he’s moaning into it, and she fucks into him _harder and harder_ until he’s pushing back against her thrusts, that cock sliding in and out so, _so_ easily, and she can feel that she _will_ come on her harness even if he’s barely even touched her.

“Ned,” she blurts, “ _Ned_ , it’s — it feels so _good_ , you’re taking it so _well_ ,” and then he screams her name and he shudders _hard_ as he comes against the sheets, and Cat can feel herself go over the edge as her legs give out and she buries herself inside him, spilling all over the harness as she feels the back of the cock press against her cunt, screaming _his_ own name back, and when she slides out and falls to the side of the bed, her hand finding Ned’s, she thinks she’s completely incapable of speech.

“Well,” he says, “if your brother has more _ideas_ for our next anniversary, I will… not complain.”

“I think,” she replies, “I shall tell him to feel free to buy more when I see him again.”

Oh, she _definitely_ will.

5.

“Was I hearing wrong,” Ned grins as he closes the door to their room, “or did Cersei Lannister try to imply that you were the most unfortunate member of your tea party just because her sister in law wasn’t there and you told her that both of you were certainly _not_ unfortunate when it came to being wedded to someone who actually enjoyed bedding their wife?”

“You certainly were _not_ ,” she smiles back, letting him undo her hair as usual — he _does_ quite love it, and who is she to stop him especially when it was never something _she_ particularly enjoyed doing? “And is it my fault if it is quite obvious that Lord Targaryen would rather compose songs than doing his marital duties?”

Ned laughs again. “That was quite mean, my lady.”

“Maybe so,” she doesn’t deny, “but I heard enough about how she was better than all of us for securing that marriage, so I think I am allowed to make sure she knows that I am faring quite well indeed.”

“Oh, are you,” he says as her hair finally falls down freely from her tresses, his hands still carding through it, “and may I take care of my own marital duties, then? It _has_ been hours since this morning and I am missing my lady a _lot_.”

“Hm,” she agrees, pulling down her dress herself and moving back on the bed, “I think you _really_ , really should. If you’re very good at taking care of your duties, I just might take care of my own.”

“Well,” he says as she lays down, spreading her legs, “then I will do my best, _my lady_.”

She shivers as he calls her like _that_ , so — so devotedly, as if he wholly means that she _is_ that to him, and by now she knows he _means_ it, and doesn’t it make her skin burn just at the thought of it, and nods at him as he moves up on the bed, not even bothering to take off anything but his shoes, and moves his head in between her legs, his tongue slowly, _slowly_ licking around her clit in the beginning, and _oh_ but if it had been beyond good when they had just started this now — now he _knows_ how to move his tongue best and sometimes he tries it _some other way_ just to see if it’ll pleasure her more, and right now it’s curling along her clit before delicately scraping against it with his tongue as she arches up and presses his head _down_ further, and then he sucks at it before moving a fingertip inside her and making her scream again. He keeps it there, not fully entering her as his tongue _still_ roams all along her cunt, sucking greedily at it — she can _feel_ him drinking down from it as she peaks once, not long after he’s started, but he doesn’t move his head at all. Rather, he _keeps on going_ , rolling his tongue over the warm, wet folds of her cunt, sliding it inside and out and inside and out, until she can feel her peak building up again. She tugs at his hair as she arches her hips upwards, pushing his head down _more_ , her heart beating wildly at the thought that he’s swallowing every drop that’s coming out of her, and after letting her rest a moment he dives in _again_ and again, until he’s worked her up again, in and out of her cunt and around her clit, up and down and sideways, faster and _faster_ until her legs are shaking wildly as she peaks a third time — she’s halfway sure that half of the house has heard her at this point but she cannot care less, not as his tongue keeps on taking her apart, until she’s come a fourth time, a _fifth_ , and she can feel him moaning against her cunt as she tries to keep her legs still as much as she can manage —

And then Ned’s tongue slides inside again, where she’s wet and slick and swollen, and as it curls and licks at her _again_ she feels her entire body shudder in pleasure, waves of it crashing all around her, so hard she has to scream his name and tug at his hair _hard_ , as her hips arch up searching for his mouth and as her cunt feels like it’s going to combust into flames

(but wouldn’t it be a _good_ way to go)

and all breath leaves her throat as she screams one last time and lets out a sound so high she hadn’t thought she could even _make_ , that feeling taking over her so fast and so strongly she can just fall back against the cushions and _breathe_ , eyes closed, as he moves away and she can _feel_ he’s smirking even if she can’t see him, except that she can’t even _talk_ now, not really, and so she waits until she feels him lay down next to her before she opens her eyes and looks at him and at his, of course, _very_ smug face as he licks his own lips, and —

She opens her mouth, not quite knowing what will come out of it but feeling like she has to put _this_ into words, somehow —

“ _Bloody_ merciful heavens,” she blurts, and then he _laughs_ , moving closer, kissing her, and oh, she’s tasting herself on him and it’s not the first time it happened but she’s feeling floaty and _happy_ and like she could do anything right now, even if her legs are still trembling.

“I see,” he says, “that I took care of my duties well enough to deserve some _real_ swearing?”

Cat, who heard _that_ just from her uncle before he left, and was told more than once that it was something that should never leave her mouth, kisses him again, rolling on top of him, her tongue searching for his as he parts his lips for her at once and groans back into her mouth, until she’s grinding on his cock and she can feel how hard he is, _just_ from licking her, and she wants —

She _wants_ —

“I need to take you,” she blurts, “I _need_ —”

“ _Please_ ,” he blurts, and she only spares a moment to be glad she never left her bedside nightstand without oil in the first drawer these days — she opens it, takes out the box with the ivory cock and harness inside it and slips it on, and then considers getting rid of his clothing slowly and piece by piece… except that _no_ , she really has no patience for it right now, and so she just tears open his silk chemise, the buttons scattering all over the floor.

“Oh,” he mock-protests, _obviously_ , “I did like that shirt.”

“I’ll mend it tomorrow,” she says, pulling it off him, “in front of Cersei Lannister.”

“ _God_ ,” he blurts, “you _would_ , wouldn’t you —”

She pushes off his trousers and underwear, thankful that he prefers cuts that aren’t exceedingly tight like most men around her, and throws them on the side of the bed, hand reaching for the oil bottle.

“I — _absolutely_ would,” she says, “and I want to _look at you_ while I take you,” she says, and he moans again, and again —

“Please — _please_ , my lady, do it —”

“Yes,” she nods, “ _yes_ , now be good and let me —”

He spreads his legs more, pulling them upward to give her better access, and she immediately coats her fingers in oil before pushing one across his entrance, and _god_ but she always shudders when she feels how tight and warm he is around her as she slicks him up, and then she pushes in further and he screams _yes my lady_ as her fingers finds the right place, the one that always makes him moan whenever she touches it, and she moans with him when she slides in a second finger and it goes in without resistance.

“ _God_ ,” she says, “ _God_ , you take my fingers so well always, so _good_ for me, aren’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he groans, “ _yes_ , just for you, my lady, _just for you_ ,” and her blood sings as she hears it and leans down to kiss him again without letting her fingers slide out completely. She hadn’t known he liked hearing her _say_ that until it slipped out the second time they did it, and then the third, and by now she’s lost count and even if at the beginning it was somewhat hard to speak and to find it in herself to _tell_ everything that was passing through her head, be it because she hadn’t known she wanted it, be it because she always was thought to never speak too much or too loud, now —

Now it feels good, now it feels _liberating_ almost, and the way he clenches around her is making her frame almost shake.

“Yes,” she nods, letting her fingers slide out — he whines at the loss as she coats the ivory cock in the last of the oil. “ _Yes_ , and don’t you worry, I’ll give you something better than my fingers _very_ soon.”

“Please,” he moans, “ _please_ , my lady, I need you in me, I —”

“Good,” she says, moving back so that the ivory cock is right over the rim, pushing the head past it, “ _good_ , now you _will_ take it as well as you usually do, won’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he sobs as she pushes in further, going slow but not stopping as he moves her legs over her shoulders and she slides in and _in_ , his hard, _hard_ erection in between the two of them and then pressing against the lower part of her chest as she finally, _finally_ slides in — it’s just under her breasts now, and when she moves a bit forward and then back, thrusting in and out of him at the same time, he screams, _loud_ —

“God,” she keeps on saying, her hands grabbing his sides, taking care to rub her breasts against his erection as she slides back and then in again, and then starts thrusting shallow and slow, _for now_ , “you always take me so, _so_ well,” she goes on, “as if you were made for me, weren’t you? _All_ of you.”

Months ago, she’d have never _dared_ utter those words, and _yet_ —

“I was,” he agrees at once, “my lady, I _was_ , you feel so good, you feel so _right_ , please — _please_ —”

“Should I take you harder?” She says, sliding in _forward_ , more bluntly, and he moans _loud_ again, his hands grasping her back so tight it hurts. “Maybe — maybe next time I should tie those hands to the bed, I think.”

His cock _twitches_ against her chest, and she can feel it leaking all over her skin, and _fuck_ if only she could do it without sliding out she’d take it in her mouth, but maybe later, or next time. _Now_ —

Now she needs to see him come as she _takes_ him and so she starts moving faster.

“You would look very, very dashing,” she moans, “all spread out for me to take as much as I want and whenever I want.”

“ _Yes_ ,” he groans, “yes, _do it_ —”

“Such — you’re so good for me,” she says, thrusting into him harder and faster, feeling that he’s close, _this_ close, “I could — I could never want this with anyone else,” she keeps on, and it’s a truth she knows in her bones because she _knows_ he’s the right one and she hasn’t regretted for a moment that _he_ was the one she married, and he’s made her happy in ways she cannot even count that don’t stop at what they do in bed, and the way he looks at her when she says it makes her almost falter because it’s so _raw_ and it makes her feel like a heroine in one of those books her father would have thrown out of the house because it wasn’t _proper_ to see them find happiness with a man _they_ loved, and God but she _does_ love him, she loves him so much she could burst with it —

“Only yours,” he agrees, nodding, “ _my lady_ ,” and God but she’s not going to last long, she’s _not_ and neither will _he_ —

“ _Your_ lady,” she agrees, and then he screams and he’s coming against her chest as she keeps on thrusting into him and gives a last push before she’s buried inside him and he’s holding on to her as he comes and her cunt is _drenched_ all over again, and she’s trembling as she slides out after he’s spent and she crawls back on top of him, dried come all over her chest as she pushes his head in between her legs and shivers all over as he licks her clean and slides that tongue in between her fold again, and _then_ she screams his name again and _again_ as she drenches his face in her water and he _drinks_ it greedily, licking away each drop he can reach, _rubbing his face in it_ , and —

It feels so _good_ it hits her at once all over again, making her whole frame shake before she screams his name and crashes down on him again, falling on his chest in a mess of limbs as her mouth finds his, and she feels dizzy and floaty in all the _good_ ways as the kiss goes from frantic to slower, their lips and tongues never quite parting until she has to breathe and he has his arms around her and her arms are around his neck, fingers carding through his damp, dark hair, so _soft_ against the tips as he rubs his beard against her chest, where she’s still wet with his spend.

“ _My_ lady, yes,” he croaks, and she lets her fingers grasp the back of his head. “Mine and no one else’s?”

“Yes,” she agrees at once, leaning down, kissing his forehead because she _can_ and now that they’re both completely spent she just wants to be close to him like _that_ , feeling his warm skin and holding him to her as his own fingers grab a strand of her hair, twirling it around their length before he buries his head in it.

“What,” she breathes, not moving as he does it, pressing closer, “ _that_ feels good, too?”

“Oh,” his breath hitches a bit, as he sighs and presses closer, “I _do_ love my lady’s hair. Very, very much. _Almost_ as much as I love her.”

Cat feels warm all over as she holds him _closer_ , her leg hooking with his, not caring at all that the bedsheets are drenched.

“Why,” she whispers, her voice feeling hoarse, “I do love my lord very, very much, too.”

He moans a little again, his mouth finding hers, and as she kisses him with all the ease of a year and some of doing that all the time and not just for appearances or chastely as most others do, she just _knows_ that down to her very being, and she couldn’t be happier that she married _him_.

No, she really, _really_ couldn’t be happier. And she knows that she’ll keep on showing him for a very, very long time.

End.

**Author's Note:**

> do cat and brienne exchange pegging advice when they meet outside boring teas? most likely yes /o\


End file.
